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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22375219">Limerence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdsLover/pseuds/NerdsLover'>NerdsLover</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:20:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22375219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdsLover/pseuds/NerdsLover</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Sherlock’s entourage thought this was the most fucked up, foolish and awkward friendship in all the History and one-time Sherlock made it obvious that was wrong (that’s not a friendship).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; Reader, Sherlock Holmes/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>254</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Right?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Request from my Tumblr: prompts #1 "We're not just friends and you f*cking know it!" with Sherlock.<br/>I'm not a native, please, forgive my mistakes.<br/>I hope you will enjoy it &lt;3</p><p>You can find me <a href="https://www.instagram.com/nerdslover/?igshid=zy2tclie696d/">here</a> and come make requests, asking questions or just fangirling with me =D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was always a pleasure for Molly to welcome Sherlock in her morgue. Or it has rather been. No, to be totally honest, Sherlock has often been a (brilliant and gorgeous) pain in her arse, but the forensic has been happy to open her door for him, nonetheless. It wasn’t anymore.</p>
<p>It wasn’t anymore since the detective has begun to bring his new friend with him. The first time, Molly hasn’t said anything. The girl was hardly a bother and, Sherlock being Sherlock, she would probably be soon out the landscape, so soon that it wasn’t worth to learn her name, right?</p>
<p>But Sherlock kept bringing her along. Molly tried to not pay attention to her, that shouldn’t have been difficult, Y/N was usually just sitting beside the detective to take notes of his deductions. Really easy to ignore, except for the unusual amount of attention Sherlock was gracing her. He grabbed a seat for her before sitting himself, he gave explanations as if he wanted to be sure to be understood, he held the door for her... Maybe she was his trainee? That wasn’t Sherlock’s kind to pick a trainee, but she was following him and taking notes, so that wasn’t impossible… And she often wore a light blue hoodie from Cambridge University which was far too big for her, maybe she was a PhD student, or something? Anyway, they weren’t holding hand or kissing or whatever, so they weren’t a thing; nothing to be jealous about, right?</p>
<p>Molly has really done her best to not fuss, searching explanations for Sherlock’s slightly unusual behaviour towards Y/N. She didn’t want to be jealous; she was above that and she did pretty well until she paid a visit to the 221B baker Street in order to do a favour to Lestrade. And, well… Coming by the detective was hardly a burden for her, quite the opposite. That’s when a doubt invaded her: Sherlock was wearing a light blue hoodie from Cambridge University which looked suspiciously like Y/N’s one. The forensic started by telling herself she was stupid, she knew very well that Sherlock has studied at Cambridge, why couldn’t he have one of their hoodies? But a tiny voice in her head couldn’t help but remind her that hoodies weren’t exactly the kind of clothes Sherlock was used to wear. Then, Molly has mentally slapped herself, she was being ridiculous. Sherlock probably just felt chilly, right?</p>
<p>Her explanation has felt into inelegant pieces when, as Y/N had entered the living room, a grocery bag in each hand and commenting about the chilly weather, Sherlock has good naturally took his hoodie off to hand it to Y/N, who, after having quickly dropped the groceries into the kitchen, has delightfully put it on.</p>
<p>“Aw much better! Thank you, Sherlock. I have to go, the cabbie is waiting for me; see you later!”</p>
<p>And she was off.</p>
<p>The only thing Sherlock found to answer to the shocked and dumbfounded face Molly was sporting has been:</p>
<p>“What? She tells it smells like me…”</p>
<p>And that was a bit awkward from Molly to still pretending they were just friends after that… Right?</p>
<p>
  <a href="https://i-m-sherlocked-twice.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. No Fun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It’s Christmas and Sherlock doesn’t want to die; Mycroft wonders why.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here comes the second chapter, I hope you will enjoy it &lt;3</p><p>You can find me <a href="https://www.instagram.com/nerdslover/?igshid=zy2tclie696d/">here</a> and come make requests, asking questions or just fangirling with me =D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mycroft hates Holidays. All this fake joy, those hypocritical wishes of happiness, kitsch decorations, silly Christmas songs and the both endless and inevitable family dinners… The elder Holmes would even prefer to handle an incoming terrorist attack or another royal scandal than attending Christmas at his parents’. But did you see Mrs. Holmes? Yeah, better not messing with her. So, here is Mycroft, on December 25th, tapped between John Watson – who’s currently listening to Mr. Holmes telling embarrassing stories about the siblings Holmes – and Mrs. Holmes herself, who’s supporting her husband in this fiasco.</p><p>Well, to be fair, there’s one thing Mycroft likes to do during Holidays: annoying his brother to no end (said brother who can’t overreact and make a mess, not in front of Mrs. Holmes). He’s rather good at it and he finds it always very entertaining, that helps him to not going nut in circumstances like these and it’s usually not difficult to do. Usually. Today is different: not only Sherlock seems to not give a damn about the all embarrassing-stories-telling affair, but he also barely answers to his brother’s snarky comments. Indeed, the younger Holmes has been engrossed by his phone since the very beginning of this merry and insufferable Christmas mess. Hell, he’s even <em>smiling</em>! There is something fishy going on… And it’s not fair! Mycroft has to put up with all this nonsense while Sherlock is <em>enjoying </em>himself? No, that’s not fair, where is the fraternal solidarity? Where is the sharing of suffering?</p><p>Ok, ok, Mycroft may be going a little too far, but he’s dying of boredom, so, sue him! Thus, he throws himself at Sherlock’s phone as soon as his owner’s back is turned to help their mother in the kitchen. Ah! The fool didn’t even put a code on his phone! And since Mr. Holmes is still rambling at John and Mary, the way is clear for Mycroft to “investigate”.</p><p>Hey, you still alive? Y/N</p><p>Barely, you? SH</p><p>Not sure… I want to throw myself out the window… Y/N</p><p>I could come to investigate on your suicide If you did that SH</p><p>My parents live on the ground floor. What a shame… Y/N</p><p>Indeed. Any specific reason you want to die at this moment? SH</p><p>Aaaah deduce it, detective 😉 Y/N</p><p>Well, according to the TV program, Arte is rebroadcasting an André Rieu’s concert and your parents wouldn’t miss it for the world SH</p><p>Yep… They have all the DVD you know… Uuuuh SOS! 😭 Y/N</p><p>What do you want me to do? SH</p><p>I don’t know, just save me! Y/N</p><p>Well, I could call Lestrade and tell him a horrible murder has been committed at your parents’ SH</p><p>It will be true if I’m forced to listen to “The Blue Danube” once more… Y/N</p><p>Hold on, that could save both of us! Just kill someone and we’re free! SH</p><p>Can’t you just pick me up? Pretty please? Y/N</p><p>Can’t leave or I’ll be the one who will be murdered SH</p><p>Shame… I wish you were here Y/N</p><p>Me too SH</p><p>Gotta go SH</p><p>Quitter! Y/N</p><p>Can’t deny dirty dishes SH</p><p>The Great Sherlock Holmes washing the dishes?! OMG! I really wish I were here! 😂 Y/N</p><p>I hate you SH</p><p>Keep telling yourself that 😉 Y/N</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re done snooping into my phone, can I have it back, please?”</p><p>Sherlock didn’t look pleased but quite embarrassed judging by the light blush dusting his cheeks. Mycroft is <em>so </em>going to make fun of him.</p><p>“Why didn’t you bring your girlfriend here, Sherlock? She seems to really regret it.”</p><p>Sherlock’s blush got deeper, he snatched his phone back and went hastily to his seat on the couch.</p><p>“Did I hear the world “girlfriend”?”</p><p>Oh <em>yes</em>, Mrs. Holmes has heard. Let’s the fun begin!</p><p>“No, Mum, Mycroft is just doing his best to be insufferable, as always.”</p><p>“Brother mine, it’s not nice to lie to Mum like this…”</p><p>But Sherlock has already dived in his phone and was dead to the world again.</p><p>He was really no fun.</p><p>
  <a href="https://i-m-sherlocked-twice.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>See you on Friday for the next chapter =D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Nobody Would Know</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Y/N has to stay the night at Sherlock's and he wants to sleep on the couch. Really?! Ahah, non not under Mrs. Hudson's watch.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here begins the rating T ^^ I hope you will enjoy it &lt;3</p><p>You can find me <a href="https://www.instagram.com/nerdslover/?igshid=zy2tclie696d/">here</a> and come make requests, asking questions or just fangirling with me =D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In Mrs. Hudson opinion, it has been a good day so far. No gun shot at the wall, no violin torture (yes, she does own a MP3, but can’t always strolling around with it, that would be dangerous for her hearing), no dangerous spy, maniac or whoever merry people trying to bully her, to abduct her tenant, or to blow Baker Street, no yelling client either. All in all, a very good day, indeed. But God knows Mrs. Hudson has been quite worried when, as she was bringing Sherlock’s mails to him, she has seen Y/N agreeing to play Cluedo with the detective. The poor thing didn’t know what she was getting herself to…</p><p>It has been a real (pleasant) surprise to hear giggles and applauses when she was expecting some yelling and a dramatic outing. It seemed the girl was a good looser, or maybe she was just amazed by Sherlock’s skills (which would certainly feed his ego and please him). Another surprise went when Mrs. Hudson heard a loud squeak in the hall and found Y/N, dressed to leave, in front of the open door, frozen before the sheer amount of snow that had fallen during the evening.</p><p>“God!”</p><p>“I hope you’re not thinking about going home under this weather, sweetie?”</p><p>“But there… There wasn’t any snow when I arrived sooner…”</p><p>“That was about nine hours ago.”</p><p>“Nine hou…”</p><p>“Yes, it’s almost midnight.”</p><p>“Didn’t see the time passed… I’ll call a cab, then.”</p><p>“Oh, sweetheart… No cabbie will come at this hour and with all this snow. You’ll have to spend the night here.”</p><p>“But I don’t want to bother you nor Sherlock, I…”</p><p>Aww what a sweet girl! All flustered at the idea to spend the night at her crush’s. The landlady didn’t let Y/N finish her sentence.</p><p>“SHERLOCK?”</p><p>The detective’s head almost immediately poked upstairs.</p><p>“Mrs. Hudson?”</p><p>“Could you come a minute, dear?”</p><p>Sherlock went down half the stairs, gazed at his landlady, then his friend, then the open door to the snowy street before turning around and starting to go upstairs again.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>Mrs. Hudson’s question stopped him, and he answered, without turning around.</p><p>“Y/N obviously won’t be able to go home tonight, so I’m going to run her a shower, pick some pyjamas for her to borrow and make the couch ready for me.”</p><p>It seemed it was the day of good surprises! The landlady has been ready for some prodding and maybe even some threats to get Sherlock to lend his bed to Y/N, she was certainly not expecting her tenant to think – and agree – about it by himself. And so, she stared in awe at the two young people who were now arguing about who would sleep on the couch.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the couch.”</p><p>“No way!”</p><p>“I should have pay attention, it’s already very nice from you to let me sleep here, let me sleep on the couch, really!”</p><p>“Don’t even think about it.”</p><p>“But, Sherlock…”</p><p>“I’m nothing but a gentleman.”</p><p>Oh. <em>Oh!</em> Well, Mrs. Hudson would have to buy a lottery ticket tomorrow first thing in the morning! She went back to her rooms, and, since everyone wanted to sleep on the damn couch, waited for the water in the bathroom upstairs to stop running before taking all the blankets she could find and turning off the heat for the night. They get a good reason to both sleep on the couch, now.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>Sherlock, stubborn as he was, has, indeed, ended on the couch with a pillow and a blanket. Half an hour after having called it a night, he started to regret it, though. Cold. He was so cold… The bloody heat had to be off again! Just during a snowstorm and while he didn’t have enough wood to start a fire in the fireplace, of course. Great. A quarter of an hour later, he was so cold, he could no longer feel his feet. That’s how Sherlock started to make his way, in the dark, to his bedroom, in order to grab one or two more blankets to wrap himself in.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was currently digging, as soundless as he was able to, in the back of his closet, when he heard some ruffling from his bed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sherlock?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. I’m searching for a blanket.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sherlock…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Mmh?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m cold.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If he hasn’t been this tired and this cold, maybe Sherlock would have thought twice before crawling under the sheets – and the blanket he was searching for – with Y/N. But, then, she wouldn’t have gladly opened her arms to his frozen frame, he wouldn’t have held her tight to his chest and she wouldn’t have nest her head into the crook of his neck. Y/N started to rub soothing circles in his back sending warmth in his limbs and, if she felt Sherlock’s hands slip under her borrow t-shirt, she could always say it was because he was cold and half asleep. And if Sherlock felt what suspiciously felt like little feather-like kisses in his neck, he could always say it was Y/N’s hot breathing becoming wet in the chilly air. And if they shared caresses and chaste, tender kisses all night long, until sleep overwent them, hell, they wouldn’t have to say anything, because nobody would know.</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>Nobody would neither knows why Mrs. Hudson was so giddy after finding Sherlock and Y/N tangled in the same bed on the morning after, nor why she almost ran to buy not one, not two but three lottery tickets, after turning the heat on again, of course.</p><p>
  <a href="https://i-m-sherlocked-twice.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>
</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Flash of Sincerity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Irene texts Sherlock, Y/N is not amused.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Valentine's day, everyone!</p><p>You can find me <a href="https://www.instagram.com/nerdslover/?igshid=zy2tclie696d/">here</a> and come make requests, asking questions or just fangirling with me =D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’m not hungry, let’s have dinner.</p><p>Bored in a hotel. Join me. Let’s have dinner.</p><p>John’s blog is HILARIOUS. I think he likes you more than I do. Let’s have dinner.</p><p>I can see tower bridge and the moon from my room. Work out where I am and join me.</p><p>I saw you in the street today. You didn’t see me.</p><p>You do know the hat actually suits you, don’t you?</p><p>Oh for God’s sake, let’s have dinner.</p><p>I like your funny hat.</p><p>I’m in Egypt, talking to an idiot. Get on a plane, let’s have dinner.</p><p>You looked sexy on Crimewatch.</p><p>Even you have got to eat. Let’s have dinner</p><p>BBC1 right now. You’ll laugh.</p><p>I’m thinking of sending you a Christmas present.</p><p>Mantelpiece.</p><p>I’m not dead. Let’s have dinner.</p><p>Happy New Year. SH</p><p>Goodbye Mr Holmes.</p><p>Happy Birthday.</p><p>Let’s have dinner, that will piss your brother off.</p><p>Sorry (not sorry), Mr. Holmes is on a diet. Y/N</p><p>Girlfriend?</p><p>Dietitian. Y/N</p><p>I already love you. What about “cheat days”?</p><p>Don’t even dream about it. Y/N</p><p>No promises 💦</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Alibi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sometimes, one needs an alibi to build up the nerves to do what one craves.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can find me <a href="https://www.instagram.com/nerdslover/?igshid=zy2tclie696d/">here</a> and come make requests, asking questions or just fangirling with me =D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Here they go again…</p><p>John throw a blasé and slightly cranky look to the drunk oddballs currently making out on the rug. That was beginning to be ridiculous – and deeply awkward – really.</p><p>The first time such a thing has happened, John has revelled in the sight of Sherlock Holmes gleefully making out with Y/N. The situation has erupted rather simply; Y/N has arrived at Baker Street – while John was visiting Sherlock – to announce she has had a promotion and Sherlock has suggested a toast to celebrate. A toast has quickly turned into a full bottle of Champaign, then two, and, with this second bottle, has come the silly little moves. John couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but, yes, Y/N was running her hand in Sherlock’s hair. And Sherlock didn’t look exasperated about it. By the way he was quietly smiling to the young woman, he looked… Content. And yet…</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“I had wanted to play with your hair for so long… Can’t stop myself.”</p><p>Indeed, Y/N was blushing slightly, but she was obviously delighted by her fingers entangled in the detective’s hair and didn’t seem to be ready to stop, even after her confession. Sherlock, on the other hand, was still unbothered by all of this. John just felt like he was intruding during a very intimate moment.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Why what?”</p><p>“Why had you wanted to play with my hair for a long time?”</p><p>
  <em>Oh boy… </em>
</p><p>“Because, your curls… They seem so <em>soft</em>. And they gently bounce with every little move you do. They’re like a halo…”</p><p>“A halo?”</p><p>“Yeah. A halo of sinfully silky curls to highlight and contrast to your equally sinfully sharp mind…”</p><p><em>Oh.</em> Wait a minute. Is Y/N flirting this blatantly with Sherlock?! And… Is Sherlock <em>blushing</em>? John, pretty tipsy himself, was ready to make a comment about this unlikely situation when, in a fluid move, Sherlock has grab Y/N’s face and start to kiss her. Not a chaste, little kiss, no. He was devouring Y/N who seemed simply <em>jubilant</em>.</p><p>John had taken a few minutes to gather his jaw from the floor and then laugh. Sherlock was <em>drunk </em>and <em>making out </em>on the couch with Y/N! Well, it has been very entertaining at first, but the doctor had quickly started to feel… extraneous. Especially when the detective had dragged Y/N on his lap, what had elicited a thrilled little moan from the girl. After that, John had flown the flat, but not without regretting to not have taken pictures of the couple when, a few days later, he realised that the two didn’t remember anything about that night.</p><p>Well, that was what the doctor has been ready to believe. At first. Because, several weeks later, the same masquerade occurred again when John, Sherlock and Y/N had decided to celebrate the happy end of an especially tricky case. They had barely finished the first bottle when, as Y/N was passing by Sherlock’s armchair, the last had caught her by the waist to pull the young woman directly on his lap and start kissing her with gusto. This time, John had tried to catch their attention; he had cleared his throat several times, he had dropped comment about the last case, he even had tried to separate the two, but, as soon as his hand had come near the couple, the doctor had been startled by a grown, probably coming from Sherlock. When the detective had left Y/N lips to start attacking her neck, John had simply taken the second bottle for himself to celebrate on his own in his old room.</p><p>And, once more, when he had tried to talk about this particular event, both of them simply had said they didn’t remember. By the third time, as soon as John had seen Y/N sprawled on the couch and Sherlock all over her in a concerto of giggles interspersed by little, breathy, moans, the doctor had simply taken the second unopened bottle to share with Mary and flown away.</p><p>***</p><p><em>Y/N knew she shouldn’t let this happen. She knew she worth better than that, than just inebriated kisses which meant nothing, which will be deny the next day. </em>They <em>worth better than that. She knew all of it. But she also knew those soft, cupid lips on hers, this wicked tongue which seemed to know all the tricks to make her surrender. She was well too aware of these large hands on her waist, keeping her as close as possible of this warm, and strong, and firm body. Whatever she was worthy of, this was far too marvellous to be resisted to and deny. And, after all, she had an alibi: she was intoxicated. With two and a half glasses of Champaign; she didn’t finish the third. But nobody had watched how much she was drinking. Except for Sherlock, Sherlock always sees everything. So, Sherlock should have seen Y/N was deeply and thoroughly in love with him.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>See you next Friday for the last part &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Limerence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>No, this is not a friendship.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Last part, dearies! I hope you'll enjoy it &lt;3</p><p>You can find me <a href="https://www.instagram.com/nerdslover/?igshid=zy2tclie696d/">here</a> and come make requests, asking questions or just fangirling with me =D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You may think Detective Greg Lestrade isn’t as stupid as he seems to be. You would be wrong. Detective Greg Lestrade is far less stupid than he seems to be. When he had seen Sherlock arriving at Scotland Yard Winter Charity Ball, he had been perplexed; but when he had spotted the consulting detective immediately making a bee line to where Y/N was quietly chatting with Anderson, he had promptly understood and gone to work.</p><p>As soon as Sherlock had been engrossed in a conversation with John and Molly, Greg had prompted Y/N to follow him to the bar and hadn’t stopped flirting with her since. He was keenly aware of the deadly glare Sherlock was giving him and since it seemed it wasn’t enough to urge the genius to act, he had asked Y/N to dance. Greg could see Sherlock fuming in his corner; what was he waiting for?</p><p>
  <em>I will end with his fist in my face… </em>
</p><p>Desperate times call for desperate measures. While prying for the safety of his nose, Lestrade kissed Y/N’s hand, then her cheek, and then he started bending slowly to reach her lips when a rough hand shoved him away.</p><p>“What do you think you’re doing?”</p><p>oOo</p><p>
  <em>There was probably nowhere where Sherlock wanted less to go than at Scotland Yard Winter Charity Ball. That wouldn’t have been a problem – hell, he wouldn’t even have thought about it for one minute – if he hadn’t had known Y/N would be there.</em>
</p><p><em>Sherlock had done his best to dismiss his feelings about the girl, he genuinely had. He also had been aware of his remarkable failing in the matter when he had started to borrow his jumper to Y/N, not because she was cold, but because seeing her in </em>his <em>outfits gave his stomach a sensation which dangerously looked like what one calls “butterflies”. It was ridiculous. Ludicrous. Charming. Stupendous. He was f*cked.</em></p><p>
  <em>It hadn’t been long before the detective had found himself unable to deny Y/N at all. He beckoned her every time he could, dropped by her flat equally often and answered her texts within the minute or almost. He didn’t care to look desperate; he needed his fix of her. And he couldn’t get enough of her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That night they had shared, that stormy night when the heat had gotten off, Sherlock had thought all his secret dreams were coming true. He had felt so full of sweetness; it had been a wonderful feeling. The addict he is should have recognized that he had tasted something stronger, something impossible to resist to. He needed more, more, more of Y/N.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He hadn’t been surprised to be unable to resist her hand in his hair and the praises she had given to him. And he had been delighted when his kiss had been welcomed, thrilled when he had found himself with a needy, shameless lapful of his fantasy. Again, Sherlock had felt hight and, again, he quickly had needed – and gotten – more of his newest drug. But it was still not enough. He wanted more, not just heated kisses and blazing touches. He wanted everything. What he had managed to steal was far from enough, especially when he had to pretend to be drunk to get what he was craving. Sherlock was so scared of his feelings. And so scared to be rejected.</em>
</p><p><em>Yet, he had seen the text Y/N had sent to The Woman. He had been enthralled by the possessiveness dripping from the messages. Y/N was jealous of Irene Adler, Y/N wanted him all to herself. What a stunning thought… It had been this very thought which had pushed Sherlock to act on his own jealousy after spending an hour watching Graham doing his best to woo Y/N. No one get to lay their gaze on what’s </em>his<em>.</em></p><p>oOo</p><p>“What do you think you’re doing?”</p><p>
  <em>Trying to force you to get your head out of your ass, you idiot!</em>
</p><p>“I’m doing my best to entertain your friend, Y/N, here, since you seemed busy elsewhere…”</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it!”</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Detective Greg Lestrade was priding himself to not be easily taken aback, he had witnessed all kind of strange things during his time as a detective, but he had never thought he would, one day, see Sherlock Holmes kiss someone like his life depended on it, in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor at Scotland Yard.</p><p>Lestrade wasn’t the only one to be flabbergasted by the look on Y/N’s face when Sherlock released her a bit. As tears of joy appeared in the girl’s eyes, the Detective Inspector went a last time to her rescue.</p><p>“Come one, move along or I arrest you for exhibitionism!”</p><p>Sherlock smiled to the pun and took both of Y/N’s hands in his.</p><p>“Shall we go home, love?”</p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p>A whole new game was on. </p><p>oOo</p><p>Limerence: (n) the state of being infatuated with another person.</p><p>
  <a href="https://i-m-sherlocked-twice.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is it. This is the longest story I’ve ever shared. It has been difficult for me to write it, not because I didn’t love it, but because I was afraid. I’m always afraid to give my work up and never coming back to it, I’m afraid people won’t like what I write and how I write, I’m afraid because English isn’t my mother tongue, so I make mistakes and I know how much it can be upseting to read a story full of mistakes. I’m still afraid now but I'm also proud, because I did my best.</p><p>I really hope you had enjoyed this story &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading, see you next Friday for the next part &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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